


Secret Garden

by ConvenientAlias



Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 18:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13793217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConvenientAlias/pseuds/ConvenientAlias
Summary: Soo Jin is painting a garden.





	Secret Garden

Soo Jin usually paints people on her area of the wall, when she manages (often through Sun’s intervention) to obtain time outside. She paints what she misses from the outside, after all. She tells Sun Bak who they are sometimes—old friends, sometimes relatives. Sometimes she does not expand, and sometimes it even seems like the paintings must be not of anyone in particular but of a dream: of little children blowing bubbles, of pretty women wearing dresses instead of uniforms. Sun always tells her that her paintings are lovely no matter what they are of.

Today, though, she paints not people but a place. A place with warm green trees on brown stems and little dots of color on them.

“A park,” Sun says, reaching out a hand and not quite touching the paint. She does not want to smudge it. It is still wet, after all.

She herself has been painting nothing special, just another picture of her dog. She only ever paints her dog, and she’s not very good at it. But she misses him. When she paints him, she feels that she will see him again, and she is keeping his memory alive for a reason.

“A garden,” Soo Jin corrects. She smiles at Sun. Her face is always as warm as the color in her paintings, though it is pale from lack of light.

“Tell me about it,” Sun says.

Soo Jin’s stories are something that keep Sun alive. They are rarely specific anecdotes but rather branch over long periods of time. She tells Sun about friendly acquaintances, places she knew, things she used to do. Sun wonders how she keeps her mind so active. Even able to leave here through her cluster, Sun finds this place gets to her. Perhaps Soo Jin in her time here has accessed some sort of second wind.

“It is near my home town,” Soo Jin says. “Most of the trees are pine and camphor. A few are Japanese maple. The camphor is the most beautiful. It has a strong smell, especially if you pluck and crush the leaves. I used to do that sometimes, when I wanted to clear my head and think. In the spring it has a million white blossoms, as many as snowflakes in the winter. It also has tiny berries, though you can’t eat them. There are a hundred trees like that, maybe.”

She points to one of the trees she has painted. Yes, if you look closely, there are white dots on it. They are delicate, fragile. Sun could smudge them away with a fingernail.

“There are also flowers all around,” Soo Jin says. “Most of them are magnolia and rhododendron. The magnolia grow on trees as well, but they are trimmed down to be like bushes. The rhododendron grow up from the ground. They are both all pink, like the color of a beautiful woman blushing.” At this she gives Sun a sideways look, and Sun laughs a little in order to stop herself from blushing and making Soo Jin’s words prophetic.

Lina elbows Soo Jin. She is painting next to her, a simple picture of a house with a red roof, and she mutters, “Do your flirting in private.”

“You’ll be there in private anyway,” Sun points out drily. They all share the same cell.

Lina huffs and turns back to her painting.

“It is a lovely garden,” Soo Jin says. “It is very near my hometown. You can pick flowers there, rhododendrons and magnolia. The smell of the camphor is delicious.”

“You must take me there someday,” Sun says gently.

Soo Jin laughs. “All right. I will.”

Before they head back inside, she casts a longing look at the moss growing up in a crack in the pavement. That is the only hint of green here that is not composed of paint.

 

* * *

 

Sun has shared a bed with Soo Jin lately, ever since she came back from solitary and they stopped dancing around each other and gave into what they wanted. They sleep side by side on a hard mattress, their bodies the softest thing they have in this place. Sometimes Soo Jin curls up a bit lower and uses Sun’s stomach as a pillow. Sun thinks this is a little funny—her gut is hard and muscled from years of training, and cannot be better than the pillows here, even if they are not exactly fluffy. Soo Jin doesn’t seem to mind.

Tonight she curls around Sun, cradles her in her arms. They are both tired and not in the mood to make out but Soo Jin massages Sun’s breasts almost absent mindedly, and Sun lets her. It leaves her aroused but in a comfortable, sleepy way, and drives the tension out of her body.

“Sun,” Soo Jin whispers.

“Yes, Soo Jin?”

“I lied, earlier.”

“What did you lie about?”

“I lied about the garden,” Soo Jin says. “It doesn’t exist.” The room is quiet except for her whisper and Min Jung and Lina’s breathing. “I made it up for myself, a couple years ago. I like to pretend it does.”

Sun ponders this for a moment. “So, the garden exists in your head.”

“Yes.”

“And in your heart.” She reaches over and places a hand on Soo Jin’s chest.

Soo Jin sighs. “There and only there.”

“Then you may take me there more easily,” Sun says. “Tell me about it again. I like the sound of your voice.”

“There are a lot of trees there, and flowers. Most of the trees are pine and camphor. The camphor trees are my favorite because of how they smell, fresh and medicinal. I like to crush the leaves and smell them. And in the spring, they have millions of white flowers…”

Sun listens to Soo Jin’s story and lets herself sink into it as she drifts off to sleep. The warmth of Soo Jin’s body against hers is like the sun that shines down on a quiet and peaceful garden.

**Author's Note:**

> Oops, I wrote two Sun femslash pieces in a single night.  
> Jk I have no regrets.  
> This one was written specifically for a Femslash February prompt of "Garden". There are no gardens in prison, but the mind can make a heaven out of hell.  
> I'd love to hear from you in the comments.


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